Whisper of the Wind
by Sazmuffin
Summary: JL oneshot.


Whisper of the Wind

It was three o'clock in the morning. The fire had burned all the way down, and was but mere embers. The moon reflected into the window, shining on a young man's face as he lay on the couch, covered in quiddtch plays and a red blanket. His glasses were on the books on his chest, his eyelids closed over hazel eyes. Being 6' 4", his feet lay criss-crossed on the floor. He had not changed from his school uniform, as he was creating new moves for his team.

Up in the girl's dorm, the owner of the third bed to the right, thrashed and turned, never pleased with the thousands of positions she had come up with in the past three hours. Her chin-length, red bangs swept in front of her emerald eyes, as they were open in frustration. It happened to be the coldest day of the year, and the Gryffindor common room and dorms were freezing. The worst part, was that she only had a very thin wool blanket and couldn't get another.

Groaning, she got up, and walked to the door. Her hand closed around the cold doorknob, and she opened the door to walk down the steps, and to the sofa she loved. Although, she did not see the red blanket that she stepped on, dragging it with her, or the toned stomach she plopped down onto until the she and the couch screamed.

She fell onto the floor on her back, and would've been sandwiched between the floor and her arch enemy if it weren't for a table, the couch, and his superior reflexes. He almost fell as well, but braced himself some foot and a half from the woman under him. One hand and one foot were rested on the couch, the others on the table.

He had no idea what happened. First, he was in a peaceful sleep, dreaming about his seven-year long fancy, Lily Evans, when someone sat on him! That person, not only having sat on someone and fallen to the floor, was pelted with the many papers and books on his torso as well as his glasses. Since he didn't have them, he wouldn't have been able to see his own hand in front of his face.

"Potter!"

"Who the bloody hell are you?" said James.

She rolled her eyes and picked his glasses from the floor and held them up for him.

"In case you haven't noticed, mystery person, I can't get my glasses because then I'd fall on you! And if you are who I think you are, you will not like that."

Lily muttered something like 'helpless baby' and put his glasses on for him, "And, for once, your right, Potter. I wouldn't like that."

"I'm about a millisecond from falling, so, if I were you, I'd move."

"I can't move because"- Too late.

His muscles failed, and let go, causing him to fall onto his crush. He didn't fall to hard, for she held her arms up, keeping him up.

"Get off me, Potter!"

"With pleasure," he sneered, and slid from the body of Lily Evans, "Why the heck are you down here at this time of night!"

"I could ask you the same," Lily shot back.

"I stayed up making plays for the quidditch team, thank you very much."

"Oh, is it this?" Lily asked, lodging it from the neck of her shirt. As she looked at it, she hated to admit it, but it was very complex. A color for every player, arrows to where that person would go to, possible plays the other team might do after this one were written in neat handwriting along the margins. Lily looked around the room, there were tons of papers just like this.

"Yes. Could I please have it back? That particular play took me almost an hour to organize."

She noted the desperate tone in his voice, and the fact that he said 'please'. "Can I make a suggestion?"

James looked rather puzzled, but said, "I'm listening. . ."

"Thorn is on your team, yes?"

He nodded.

"He likes curves. Flying in a straight line will bore him and make it easier for the other team to get the quaffle."

James pondered this. "You know what? You're right!" He accepted the paper play from Lily, and magically erased the lines. Within five minutes, a play almost completely different than the last shone brightly on the paper. "I'm curious, how did you know that?"

"I observe."

"Oh. . ." they stood there, for a short while, not saying or doing anything. "Why are you down here, anyway? It's not like it's not okay that you are, I was just wondering. . ."

"It's really cold in the dorm, I thought the fire might be better," Lily answered, taking a seat in an armchair, "besides the fact that I couldn't get to sleep even if I wanted to, but, you know."

"Oh, here, then," James magically re-lit the fire, and spread the blanket he once used over her small body.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she said, softly, wrapping the blanket tighter around her.

"You were cold, I wasn't," James smiled.

They lulled into a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company. He's not that bad, thought Lily, once you get past the ego.

Then, Lily laughed.

"What's so funny?"

She only laughed harder.

"Lily, come on, tell me."

She managed to choke out, "I think this is the first time you and I have spoken to each other and not shouting."

James then started laughing.

They laughed controllably for a long time. Although what they didn't notice, is that they were coming closer and closer to each other with every laugh.

It was James that first noticed, when he finally opened his eyes. He didn't dare move. Once Lily opened hers, neither did she. James then lifted a trembling hand to her cheek, softness meeting his rough palm. She had no idea what he was doing, and apparently, neither did he. His hand didn't move, until he said in a cracked, low voice,

"Lily. . ."

"James. . ."

He pressed his lips gently against hers, like a whisper of the wind.


End file.
